


Thirsts

by FullElven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullElven/pseuds/FullElven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is struggling with the thirsts that come from being marked with the Mark of Cain. Can Castiel offer some sort of reprieve from the darkness within him before it swallows him whole?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirsts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekingslover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingslover/gifts).



> A special thanks to thekingslover for her awesome suggestions! I couldn't have finished this without her.

Soft-focused green eyes watched as the water in the shower endlessly circled the rusted drain; no end, no beginning. The longer the hunter watched, the more he found his attention drawn toward the drain itself. Rather, the dark abyss that existed just beyond the porous drain guard and the guttural sounds it made as it devoured all it was fed.

 

It mirrored the hunger within Dean Winchester, an almost painful lust and desire to strike, to kill, and to destroy everything ever since he’d touched that cursed blade of Cain’s. That terrible, unending, nagging need to cut flesh, to feel it tear through bone. The hot water sliding across Dean’s flesh became blood, thick and fresh. So real was the thought that the scent of copper flooded his senses and his body trembled.

 

Despite the warmth of the shower, and the fact that he was _still clothed_ within it, his teeth clattered. Muscles tensed as he fought against the shaking until his entire body ached and his stomach felt sick. Still the liquid circled the drain, but now it was blood, rich and red.

 

And still he felt empty, miserable, and wanting.

 

Once that train of thought got going, it seemed impossible to get it to stop, and Dean found himself but a helpless slave to it. Over and over it played in his head, the sensations ran through his nerves and made his skin buzz, until he was no longer aware of where he was or what he had been doing. The urges swirled about his mind like a swarm of angry bees, and he held his ailing head with desperate hands, begging for it to stop. The more he fought, the more he hurt.

 

The only short reprieve came as desperation took him and he punched the broken cream colored tile with a fist. Pain rocketed through his senses, almost as if waking him suddenly from a nightmare. But the blood that seeped from his knuckles called him back, and he punched it again, and again. Over and over, painful agonizing wails entering his ears that caused his adrenaline to pump and his heart to race with excitement.

 

So far gone he was, he didn’t realize that it was from his own mouth that the cries came from.

 

It was rather sudden that his arm was met with resistance that kept his hand from making contact with the tiled floor again. Reflex brought his other around to punch at the intrusion, making solid contact with a khaki clad rib and a plaintive sigh coming from the owner of it.

 

“Dean.” The voice called, the inflection behind it lending to the idea that perhaps it wasn’t the first time his name had been said.

 

Those green eyes focused, _really_ focused, on reality only to find Castiel’s hand still gripping his bicep, the angel’s baby blues watching him worried. Of all the terribly smart assed things the elder Winchester usually had to say, none found his lips. He tried to find that ill-timed humor and sarcasm of his to mask his pain and embarrassment at being found like this, but the only thing his mind seemed willing to let him do is reach to grip Cas’s trenchcoat like a lifeline.

 

Cas had been content to just crouch there in the shower with Dean in his clothes for as long as he needed him to, but when he watched what was left of the hunter’s strength fail him with a quiver of lip and what was most definitely a tear amongst shower water, he could watch no longer. With an easy push to his feet, he found Dean’s good hand and attempted to coax him to his feet with a light tug.

 

It seemed to have been working…for a moment. Dean’s legs gave though, and he crumpled at the angel’s feet, hugging Castiel’s legs as he sobbed into him. The vulnerability was so unexpected by the angel, something he’d only seen when he gazed into his soul and raised him from Perdition. It wasn’t something Dean Winchester saw fit to wear on the outside.

 

Lightly he pat his back, a little awkwardly at first, before he timidly let his hand remain to rub it in a way he assumed human’s found comforting. Dean didn’t stop crying, but slowly they started to let up. Retracting his hand some, Cas tempted fate to run his long fingers through that thick dark hair of Dean’s, his own breath hitching with surprise. It felt even better than he had imagined it.

 

So entranced with his own tactile adventure through Dean’s hair, he didn’t notice how the Winchester had all but stopped crying, looking up at him with some surprise for the action he had made. Castiel didn’t stop, continuing to run his fingers through the thick, damp, brown and watching as it slipped through them to brush his hand. With every pass through, Dean’s eyes closed partially, his breath coming slower, deeper.

 

“…Cas…” His name rolled from his lips even throatier than before, sounding so raw wrapped in the emotion that Dean held within him. Those blue’s instantly found him though, looking both confused and concerned. Had he done something wrong?

 

Dean forced himself from the floor, a hard grunt as bones popped in protest. Before he was fully standing though, that still bleeding hand of his snaked behind Castiel’s neck and buried into the hair at the nape of his neck and without warning, he claimed his lips with a desperate need.

 

A few nerve-wracking seconds passed before he felt the angel respond through his surprise, a warm breath released through his nose. It was all the encouragement Dean needed to fully succumb to his thirsts. The darker bloodlust of earlier had softened into a lust of a different kind, the scent of blood chased away by the scent of Cas.

 

There was something intoxicating about Castiel’s kiss, and Dean was sure he was tasting Heaven as he let his tongue trace the angel’s bottom lip. The action sent a shiver down Cas’ spine, and he parted his lips with a shared breath that drove Dean even more wild. While the hunter pinned his angel against the wall of the shower, Cas’ fingers slid through his hair once more only to grip firm at the short length.

 

The groan that escaped Dean was damn near primal, and he pinned him there with his body. The angel barely had time to draw breath before the elder Winchester was stealing it from him again.

 

“ _Cas…_ ” Dean groaned between kisses, letting his stubbled cheek brush against Castiel’s on his way to begin kissing and nipping his way along the angel’s neck. For a moment, Cas’ legs felt weak and he was suddenly glad for Dean’s weight against him, holding him up on that wall.

 

Heat permeated from Dean’s form, despite the quickly cooling water, his kisses and touches becoming more fervent with each passing moment. His fingertips gripped and pulled, while Castiel’s every movement was soft, caressing, and filled with a sort of longing that was tinged with something… _more._ Each little touch would call to a place deep within Dean, eliciting a flutter of his heart, but also no small amount of guilt. It built and it built until he was forced to push himself from Cas.

 

“I can’t do it.” He growled, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Cas’s lips felt bruised as he reached up to touch them gently. His beautiful blue eyes searched for Dean’s hypnotic greens, but the elder Winchester couldn’t bring himself to meet his.

 

“It’s alright—“

 

“No it’s not, Cas!” Anger filled his voice, though Castiel knew all too well that it was directed inward, not toward him. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. _This_ isn’t how I wanted you to find out. Not in the middle of some fully clothed shower meltdown.”

 

“I don’t mind, Dean.”

 

Dean wanted to yell at him, and everything behind those vivid green eyes as they finally met Cas’ blues said it. But that fire was near instantly put out when he saw the concern and willingness there. “I know, Cas. You’d just let me use you to soothe this…whatever it is I’m feeling. Well, it’s not gonna happen. I’ll find some other way.”

 

Bringing a shaking hand up, he turned the tarnished metal knobs until the water stopped running with a protesting groan from the bunker’s ancient plumbing. “What I mean is…it’s okay…if you use me. Better now, before—“

 

“Nothin’s gonna happen to me, Cas. You hear me. Don’t you think it’s ever okay to let someone use you, alright? Not even me. You’re worth more than that.” He was talking and moving, getting out of the shower stalls and tossing off his soaked red flannel shirt and the bland grey shirt beneath it. “Look, I’m sorry Cas. And before you say that it’s alright, or that you don’t mind, just… _don’t._ I need to do this.”

 

Castiel canted his head, water dripping from his soaked clothes, and Dean had to wonder whether the angel even noticed that he was soaked head to toe. That piercing gaze of his seemed to look right through him, straight into his soul— _was he looking into his soul?_ It was a question for another time, for now though, Dean needed…he didn’t know what he needed.

 

“Don’t you think you should go change your clothes? Get something a little less…dripping?” He asked as he kicked his socks off and started towel drying his hair.

 

“No.”

 

Dean furrowed his brow. “No? I’ll tell ya now, you’re not tracking water all over the bunker, Cas.”

 

“I’m not leaving. You need me. You’re hurting, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Dean sighed heavily, running the quickly dampening towel over his tattooed and scarred muscles. “…I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

 

“You’re in love with me.”

 

Subtlety was never Castiel’s strong point, and yet that little revelation caused Dean to choke on his own air. A short coughing fit ensued before he turned his back directly to him. “Now…just…just because I kissed you…Er, you see, what that was back there…it wasn’t. I don’t—“

 

“You _don’t_ love me?”

 

Did he…did Cas sound _dejected_?

 

“It’s not that I don’t Cas, what I mean is… _Damn, it, Cas._ ” Dropping the towel where he stood, Dean turned and crossed the distance between them. Calloused hands palmed either side of the angel’s face and he bent down a little so that they were directly eye to eye. “Bad things happen to those I love, you understand? You of all people should know that. My family, my friends, they die because they know me. They die _because of me._ ”

 

“You think that if you were to say you love me, I would die.” That unblinking blue gaze watched Dean right back, losing a little of his worry as he started to understand.

 

“That or you’d go away.”

 

Finally Cas looked away to stare at the floor, shame writing itself onto his face. “And I’ve left you alone too much already.”

 

Dean’s expression softened and he pulled Cas against him, holding him and getting himself wet all over again. “Look, I forgave and forgot that a long time ago. I understand, you did what you had to.”

 

“I should have been with you. I should have protected you, or told you that I was okay…or that I love you too. I shouldn’t have left you to suffer alone. I wasn’t saving you, I hurt you Dean.”

 

The hunter’s heart raced with Cas’s own confession of love, and he held him all the more tighter for it. Emotions raced through him; excitement, worry, _fear._ Castiel ran fingers once more through Dean’s damp hair, in efforts to soothe him once more.

 

“You’re shaking.”

 

“You’re not even the least bit worried about the trouble you’re asking for…being in love with me?”

 

Castiel shook his head, and pulled back to look into Dean’s eyes. “I’ve died, been to Purgetory, lost my grace, got it back, and I’m still here Dean. I think…if anything…I need you to love me. I don’t think I can ignore it now…that the cat’s out of the bag.”

 

The phrase brought a soft, soundless chuckle from Dean’s lips and for the first time in awhile, a small smile found them. Genuine…and all for Cas. “Fine.” Swallow. “I love you too, Cas. There. I said it.”

 

It was as if a light was turned on within the angel and it shone out of him in every direction. He smiled wide, some invisible weight lifted from his wet, trenchcoat clad shoulders. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well, don’t thank me yet. Now why don’t you go dry off before you catch a cold or somethin’.”

 

No more than a simple blink from Dean, and Castiel suddenly vanished with the lingering sound of wings in the air to resonate within his ears. He shook his head with a quiet laugh and went back to drying himself off. It was nice to have a little silence in his head, a little warmth in his heart, and all of his thirsts quenched.

 

Mostly though, it was simply nice to love and be loved in return. Unconditionally.


End file.
